Please, Sir - A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction One Shot
by sherekahnsgirl
Summary: Tom's lover submits to a pretty severe strapping and is rewarded for having done so. Dominant Tom, D/s, strapping, erotica, smut


A/N: Definitely 18+!

Written pretty much entirely from Tom's POV (although still third person).

Strapping is relatively severe - be forewarned (although some probably won't find it so) if this is triggering.

When he got home, she wasn't there to greet him at the door. That was highly unusual in and of itself. He knew she was home - her car had been next to his in the garage. The second thing that had him on a bit of an alert as he made his way to the bedroom with long, quick strides was that the house was completely silent. None of her music playing. No ambient episodes of _Seinfeld_ or _Friends_ playing in the background while she surfed or cleaned the house or -

As he entered their big bedroom, she rose from where she had been sitting - the picture of prim femininity achieved to perfection somehow while completely nude - on the end of their bed and walked to him, falling gracefully to her knees in front of him to press her forehead to the toe of his black leather and suede dress shoes, arms extended out past but not around him, then sat back on her legs, her eyes settling heavily on his, bravely offering up to him what she was holding, laid out across both of her upturned palms and whispering with a bravery that almost brought him to his own knees, "Please, Sir?"

She looked away from him for a quick second, then back up at him, eyes showing her determination and will, but he saw a shudder run through her and her voice was even softer when she added, cheeks stained a bright pink, "Don't stop when I start to cry."

A myriad of sharp, raw emotions hit him all at once, not the least of which was great pride in her for asking him for this. He allowed himself to follow his impulse and reach out to lovingly cup her cheek, letting his face - which in the instant that he saw her had become quite angular and rigid, in preparation for what he was about to do - soften into a much more tender countenance.

There wouldn't be much tenderness for her in what was to follow, but he never wanted her to doubt for one millisecond how much she meant to him - how much he respected her for and how terribly honored - and it was a terrible, terrible honor - he was by what she was asking of him.

What she trusted him enough to ask him to do to her.

Not willing to let her wait for his answer, he rasped loudly in the silent room, "Yes, my love."

His eyes never leaving hers as she sat there still offering him the object of her certain misery in quiet supplication, he took off his suit coat to fold it lengthwise and lay it over a handy chair, his tie joining it in seconds, removing his cuff links to put them on top of his bureau to be dealt with later - probably much later, not that he cared in the least.

Then he began rolling up his sleeves, looking from them to her and back again as he did so, wanting to lose contact with her as little as possible. Besides, as acutely aware of her as he was, he loved to see from the slight changes in her breathing how much she enjoyed that particular ritual, despite the fact that - or more accurately, perhaps, because - she knew exactly where it led.

When he was finished, he reached down and relieved her of her burden to walk slowly past her, laying two fingers on the back of her shoulder. His quiet, stern, "You _know_ where you belong," setting her into elegant motion.

God, he adored how she moved, like a dancer although he knew she had no training in it whatsoever. It had taken him being involved with her for nearly a year to get her to agree to dance with him, and despite the fact that she seemed to enjoy herself with him - he made damned sure she had - her insecurity about it still plagued her, he knew, although when they had first begun to graduate to the level of intimacy which they now shared, one of the first things he had done was to remove her right to refuse him on that particular point.

She gathered two pillows from the artfully haphazard pile of them at the head of their big bed and brought them to the end of it to pile one on top of the other in the middle of the edge of the bed, then lean over them so that her bare backside was brought into obscene relief, providing the perfect target for his - or rather its - attentions.

Her bottom was held so high in the air that she was forced to balance on her tiptoes, which, for some reason, was a sight that never failed to get him hard - not that he hadn't been pretty much perpetually from the moment he'd first seen her years ago.

Tom took an end in either hand and quickly pulled it tight, resulting in a sharp snapping that sounded an awful lot like he had brought it down across her rear end instead. She jumped and whimpered, but remained in place, arms tight to her sides as he required.

He rarely allowed her the luxury of bonds any more, instead expecting that she knew better than to try to get up. He almost relented this time, though.

He'd seen her face when she'd been cuddled up against him in this very bed and he'd shown her what he'd bought. She'd looked scared for the first time since he'd known her about something that wasn't a thunderstorm or an insect or a horror film, which he had put a moratorium on her watching.

"Sir, nooooooooo!" she'd whimpered low, shrinking away from him in a manner he didn't like and staring at the thing he held confidently in his hands as if it was going to bite her.

And it definitely was.

Tom had kept the implement in that hand and reached for her with the other, pulling her tight to him, tipping her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "Do you know that I love you beyond words - beyond measure?"

She didn't hesitate to nod slowly, but she was still biting her lip.

"And you've graciously granted me the right to take care of you as I see fit. Do you still agree to that, my love?"

"Oh, yes, please, Sir!"

He smiled down at her, pleased at the vehemence of her answer and the earnestness he saw in those pretty eyes and letting go of his gift to her. "And do you trust me with every," he kissed her reverently, "little," his lips sought each nipple, suckling them to wet, throbbing peaks, "bit," his hand found its way between legs that fell open at his slightest touch, as they had been taught to, cupping the parts of her that were most private and most his, "of you?"

"Yes, Sir."

He couldn't tamp down either his amazement at the fact that she had never hesitated to answer him in the affirmative, or the tremendous pride he felt that she felt safe enough with him to do so.

"Then you needn't worry about the strap, sweetness. Besides, _I_ will not be the one to decide when you receive it the first time."

She could not have looked more surprised.

The idea had come to him just that second, but it felt undeniably right to him. "Because you fear it - and rightly so - you must present it to me and submit yourself to it willingly, not for a punishment but as a test of your submission to me."

She looked as if she was full to bursting with questions, and he had let her know that he always welcomed her questions, but he wouldn't drag them out of her. She would come to him with them in her own time.

"Is there a time limit - you know, before you'll take the choice out of my hands?"

"There is, but I'm not going to tell you what it is." She adored submitting to him in all ways, and he knew she would have preferred if he had made this decision for her. "It would please me greatly if, when you are ready, you simply presented me with the strap and yourself at the same time. Have no doubt that I will make thorough use of it, but as it is would not be a punishment situation - after which you are not allowed your pleasure - and therefore I would - if I was so inclined afterwards - to make you dance on my mouth."

It had been nearly a month, during which he had chafed a bit, but kept silent about it - wanting to reach for the strap a hundred times but resisting the urge.

She was small - tiny, to him, so much so he had a certain amount of guilt at times about just how harshly he treated her - but she was - in her remarkable desire to submit herself completely to him - very strong, and he knew if he gave her enough time she would prove herself more than worthy of the challenge.

A few weeks later, he stood to one side of her, considering her position carefully. As always, he was scrupulously careful with her. He took his role as her dominant very seriously and a large component of that, as far as he was concerned, was caretaking - before, during and after he used her in whatever way pleased him the most at that moment.

"Babygirl, I want you to put your arms above your head." He needn't explain himself to her, so he didn't, but he worried that the strap might accidentally hit her hand if he left them next to her hips, which was the last thing he wanted.

She obeyed him immediately.

He needn't tell her that she was not allowed to bring them down until given permission to do so.

Tom reached down and ran his hand over her bottom, noting how pale and fair it was.

Not for much longer, though.

As there was no infraction, there was no need to lecture beforehand, so he simply took a step to her side, brought his arm back and let the leather fly across the highest swell of those delightfully plump cheeks.

She threw back her head and wailed as he watched the first welts rise and leave an angry red ribbon over those cringing hills, while her cry died slowly into a sob.

The entirety of her bottom was covered rather quickly so he extended the playing field a bit, administering several sharp strokes to that spot where bottom became thigh - knowing that would mean she was going to feel it and remember exactly what had happened to her every time she sat down for quite some time to come - once she was _able_ to sit down, that was.

He even laid a long track just beneath that, across the very tip tops of her thighs.

That earned him her first true scream.

It would not be her last.

Breathing heavily, his cock threatening to tear through the material of his dress pants at any moment, Tom nonetheless missed nothing about her - not the slight sheen of sweat the covered her, giving her body a magnificent glow, not the way her hair writhed as her body wanted to whenever her head whipped back and forth after another one of his efforts seared her flesh, not the way he knew she struggled - internally and externally - to remain in the position he had prescribed for her.

And he knew the moment he saw her arms begin to creep down, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he took a hold of the end of the strap in _both_ hands, " _I_ _ **said hands above**_ _your_ _ **head**_ ," emphasizing his words viciously and watching as she breathed out every bit of air in her lungs, toes dancing frantically against the floor . . . but those beautiful, delicate arms of hers returned to where she knew they needed to be.

Where he had just encouraged her to make sure they _stayed_.

He wasn't finished with her yet, administering at least another dozen or so strokes before he threw the thing across the room. The sound of it crashing against the wall startled him but not her.

She was too deep in her own misery to feel anything extraneous to it.

He sank to his knees before her, bestowing a worshipful kiss on the ruination that he had wrought, then slowly, carefully, with excruciating attention to her comfort - well, aspects of it, anyway - he turned her over. She was completely limp and he might have thought that she had passed out except for her heart wrenching sobs, which grew exponentially in frequency and volume when her bottom came in contact with the bed.

Tom's big hands found her hips as he pulled her down to him, ignoring her continued cries as he situated her with her bottom half hanging off the bed, supported by his arms as he brought her legs over his shoulders and pressed forward with no preamble, sealing his lips over a clit that he would have thought would have been undiscoverable, completely receded within itself due to the depths of her misery, but instead was crested and throbbing, eagerly seeking the attentions he intended to provide.

He knew she couldn't really feel it yet, but he was persistent, and, in a remarkably short amount of time, her fading sobs became rising moans. As soon as he heard that conversion take place, he leaned away from her with a smile on his face.

"There you are, _ma petite_. You were - you are - magnificent. I have never been more touched - more honored - " he found himself getting choked up and didn't - wouldn't - hide it from her " - by your submission to me. I shall try to always be worthy of the trust you've placed in me." His mouth found her again, languidly lapping. "But now I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl for me."

Knowing it was going to make her cross that line again, back into the severe discomfort from which she'd only just begun to recover, he slid her back up the bed a bit, forcing her raw behind into contact with the comforter, which was hardly rough material but must've seemed so to her.

He let her fresh sobs and wails die down, kissing the insides of her thighs and murmuring soothing nothings to her, then ordered firmly, "Show yourself to me, angel. Show me the most intimate part of you that I alone possess the right to."

How she could possibly blush after all of the things he'd done to her these past few years he would never know, but she did - all over, as those elegant - if reluctant - hands travelled slowly down to where he knelt between her legs, fingers hooking into the top of her outer lips, pulling up and spreading herself out for him at the same time.

Displaying herself - every delectable morsel - to him, despite how he knew it still embarrassed her to do so.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he sighed, watching her contract as his hot, wet breath caressed bits that had nowhere to hide from whatever he decided to do to them. "Despite how much I love your auburn curls and those bright, intelligent eyes of yours, those luscious lips and mmmmmmm nipples I adore suckling at until you cry out and all the rest of you that thrills me to the core every time I get even just the smallest glimpse of any part of you - when we're out - when we're in church - when we're with friends or family, making me _rock hard_ at the most inappropriate of times, it's _here_ that you are the most mine and thus the most breathtaking. Here, where you are most permanently blushed pink, the most feminine, the most submissive . . . the most elementally _mine_."

With that he slipped a finger into her - just one, and it clung to him so tightly that he had to pause for a moment, his cock pounding against its confines, demanding to replace that impudent digit.

His reward for his invasion was a guttural groan. He knew how much she loved it when he put his fingers inside her, especially when he was loving her with his mouth.

A second soon joined the first, introduced gently but firmly as she alternately gasped and caught her breath, and he thought he was going to unman himself just from listening to the uninhibited music he was inspiring in her.

"Hold yourself open for me," he repeated, even though her hands hadn't moved, understanding completely just how powerful words like that were to her. "That's it. Good girl." He deliberately lowered his tone, making it suddenly stern. "I won't allow you to hide any part of you from me, little one. I will have all of you - even the tiniest bits you want to keep from me that you think I don't know about - I will have them, too." He watched his husky tone raise gooseflesh all over her. Tom reached up to tweak a nipple and she looked down at him obediently. "Because you are - _this is_ - _mine_."

He held her eyes as he leaned forward, as he opened his mouth and took her into that moist, hot cavern, tongue eagerly fondling that prominent bud, all while their eyes locked.

She dare not look away, he knew, until he did a few minutes later.

Listening to her as her head whipped back and forth as she moaned and writhed beneath his avid mouth, he realized that she was surprisingly close, another jolt of pure pride of possession sizzling through his nerve endings at the thought.

He reached beneath her with his free hand to cup her behind, squeezing lightly, adding a counterbalance to the pleasure he was giving her which backed her off a bit but not for long.

She was too far gone, too full of the sensations he was creating to go anywhere but forward, propelled by him to the edge of that very private, personal cliff.

Lifting his head, Tom caught her eye again as he removed his two fingers - almost but not quite smiling at the protests that caused - only to replace them seconds later with three fingers, which had always - like himself - been a challenge to her.

At first he presented them to her coned together as he pressed them inexorably up inside her. "Yield to me," sternly said. "You have no choice, regardless of whether or not you do. These three fingers are going to end up deep inside you, and then they're going to fuck you - hard. I'm going to make you squeal every time they claim you - fast and unrelenting, just like you need it."

"No no no no no," she chanted in a helpless whimper.

They were halfway in now but he found himself no longer willing to wait, unfolding them and with one powerful movement, thrusting them fully home within her.

She did - indeed - squeal and contract and twist and writhe around her impalement, but he didn't give her any time to recover, beginning immediately to plunge into her with terrible force as he brought his mouth to within a inch of her clit. "You are _mine_ to punish and _mine_ to pleasure. And it is my wish to pleasure you now. Cum. Cum while I fuck you with my fingers because I'm _not_ going to stop until you do."

He never varied the tremendous power with which he drove those long digits up inside her as he lowered his head, settling his tongue directly on top of a clit that was pulled - by her own hands - completely out from under its protective covering, left entirely vulnerable to his aggressive tongue as it pressed itself over her and began to rub demandingly, unceasingly, as if he would never, ever stop.

Tom could almost immediately begin to feel the muscles of her storm gathering, tensing beneath him and around him as he almost casually reached up to pinch her nipples, moving quickly from one to another, plucking, twisting, pulling, adding to the maelstrom he was creating within her until -

This time her scream was of an entirely different sort - uncontrolled and uncontrollable, long and loud and very nearly enough to make him cum in his pants as he moaned his approval against that very sensitive spot, especially since it continued almost unbroken as he never let up his pleasurable assault on her body, coaxing three, four . . . five more peaks from her before he began to ease off just a little, still able to draw out another two complete explosions, reluctant, as always, to leave her entirely, his tongue still lapping out at her as he lay his cheek on the inside of her thigh, fingers very slowly pulled away from her to cup her familiarly instead.

But the demands of his body left no room for him to revel in what he'd just brought her to. Instead he stood, his possessive gaze roaming over every bit of her, from that wild mass of hair as it spread out beneath her to where she was spread beneath his gaze and soon the rest of him, too.

The absolute minimal adjustments made, his cock jutting hard and proud from his lean body, nearly purple with need, he could wait no longer, finding and barely introducing the tip of himself to her body.

Her eyes would have been closed, he knew - she liked to hide from him in the aftermath, which was a habit he was still trying to break her of - but he wouldn't allow it. He could see traces of tears down her cheeks and into her hair, knowing some were very recent, from her ecstasy, some much less so on both counts.

"My darling." His whisper came out much more roughly than he intended, but then at this point he was barely civilized. Seeing her like this, knowing what he'd done to her - _all_ that he had done to her - he was holding onto a bare tendril of decency with his teeth at the moment, and it was beginning to rip asunder as the pressure to simply take her, to _possess_ her built within him with every second he wasn't buried inside her.

Her eyes met his and she whimpered the words that broke him. "Take me, please, Sir!"

He knew he should have been gentler with her. He knew he was hurting her - not horribly but definitely some as he used every bit of his unbridled strength to force his way into her, completely unable - and in some ways unwilling - to temper himself for her this time.

She had always said she was his for the taking; that she didn't want him to treat her as if she was likely to break beneath him. She'd always said he should do what he wanted to with her.

He was going to hold her to her words.

He had never let himself go, never really cut the cord that tethered him to his very strong caretaking side that was always acutely aware of his own size and strength and very concerned with the comfort and delicacy of the woman who was beneath him.

And she was _the_ woman - _his_ woman - the one and only he had searched for all his life, the one he loved and cared about more than anyone - or any _thing_ \- else on the planet - beyond his own sense of self-preservation, beyond his career, beyond everyone and everything else in his world.

And it was the way she loved him back - in exactly the same unconditional, balls to the wall way she had shown him in so many ways that she loved him - that gave him the freedom to allow himself to revert - to regress to his core sexuality, his basest, most elemental self.

He claimed her body, fucked her completely to his own end, no longer listening for sounds of distress, or signs of discomfort, but simply and mindlessly _fucking_ her.

Somewhere, in the back of his consciousness where his civilized self had been relegated, he felt her contract around him, saw her throw her head back and scream, arms trying to clutch him to her although he refused to be held, to be tamed in the least, small hands cupping his butt and, unbelievably, pressing him further inside her, nails biting into him and spurring him on as her teeth nipped at his shoulder while he leaned down to suck a pink peak between his lips as he pistoned himself powerfully into her.

The second time he felt her body accede to his demands, it was too much for him to bear as her walls squeezed and clenched around him. With a scream of his own he arched into her several more times, straining to reach as far inside her as he could with every powerful plunge, as she grasped at him in every way it was possible for a female to do so to a male, inward and outwardly - her hands gripping his hard, flexed biceps, legs squeezing around his shoulders, opening and offering more of herself to him as she continued to milk him well beyond his capacity.

Tom collapsed completely down onto her, absolutely mindless, his shaking arms no longer able to hold him up. He'd never gotten to that point with anyone else before; where he could no longer trust his body to respond to his commands any longer.

Long moments of panting heavily into each other's ears later, he turned his head so that hips lips were at her ear and murmured, "I can still feel you contracting." He had receded from her, was no longer within her, but he could still feel her body's continued, powerful spasms.

She moaned languorously, and he knew that, if he had the energy - which he didn't, unfortunately - she would be capable of many more orgasms.

Instead he settled for rolling off her and taking her with him as he landed on his back, an arm curling around her shoulders to hold her to his side.

Seconds later, he was horrified to feel tears on his shoulder. The thought flashed through his brain that if he had really _hurt_ her he would never be able to forgive himself, and he'd probably never be able to allow himself to ever touch her again, either.

But he also knew that sometimes it was all just too overwhelming to her and she cried, not from anything specific that he'd done to her, but rather from everything he'd done to her in total. She was - by nature - an even more emotional person than he was and he knew she held a lot of that in check. She had to or she'd spend days on end doing nothing but crying. As a result, orgasms - especially strong ones - were often cathartic for her, and her body sometimes _forced_ her to get all of that negative crud out of her system by making her cry as if she'd just lost her best friend.

Since he hadn't heard her safeword - not that he thought he'd've recognized it at the end there, which was troublesome - he had learned to assume that she just needed to cry.

He turned them both onto their sides, facing each other and wrapped himself around her as much as he could - he would have spooned her, but she had told him she liked to face him when she was in the throes of something like this. He knew he was right when she clung to him, her arms wrapping around him, seeking the comfort he was only too willing to provide. Here was where he truly enjoyed the radical differences in their sizes - he could pretty much wrap her up in himself, surrounding her with his love and warmth when she felt the most vulnerable.

Tom stroked her hair and kissed her face, kept the Kleenex box close by, murmuring soft nothings against her skin here and there and rubbing her back, but mostly he simply held her quietly, providing a completely safe place for her to discharge all of that pent up emotion she tended to carry around with her.

When she kissed him tentatively on the cheek, he knew she was spent.

He pressed his forehead to hers as he kissed the tip of her nose, asking softly, as he always did, "All right?"

It was an all encompassing question, deliberately vague.

She nodded, and he felt himself relax infinitesimally.

He couldn't resist enveloping her in a bear hug, then caught her chin in his hand. With their eyes locked, he whispered reverently, "I don't know what I could possibly have done in this life to deserve you, but I will _never, ever_ let you go."


End file.
